


Faith Renewed

by Bethann, Minniemoggie, Susana Rosa (SusanaR)



Series: AU of Legendary Friendship and Desperate Hours AUs [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Father-Son Relationship, Friendship, Humor, Spanking, illustrated story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2013-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-20 23:24:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/590858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bethann/pseuds/Bethann, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Minniemoggie/pseuds/Minniemoggie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faramir is formally announced as Aragorn's son to the chagrin of some in the city.  Others take exception to their taking exception.  Chaos ensues.<br/>Meanwhile Eowyn is about to give birth.</p><p>Also for those who haven't read our other stories, Lady Vonild is our original character, Gimli's mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Eowyn's point of view

 

 

[King's House in the Citadel of Minas Tirith, Eowyn POV] 

 

The air was spiced with the scents of Yule...only here they called it Mettare, Eowyn reminded herself, laying a calming hand on her distended stomach. Baby responded with a fierce kick. 

 

Eowyn smiled proudly, meeting Faramir's eyes across the dinner table. Her joy and pride were reflected in his eyes. At least until a sharper pain, lower in her stomach, made her wince. 

 

Faramir's gaze sharpened, and he raised a single eyebrow. Eowyn wondered if he realized that it made him look very much like his true father the King. For her part, she knew that the eyebrow, and the sympathy in his eyes, meant, 'Those pains are back, meleth, I'm sorry. Are they worse? Should we ask Lady Vonild to examine you again?' 

 

If Faramir didn't stop fussing over her, Eowyn was going to take her goblet of cider, and splash its contents into his face. She took a deep breath, then met her love's eyes again. 'I'm fine.' She thought to him, trusting that he could read her eyes without her having to say a single word aloud. 

 

He leaned back in his chair with a teasing smile, and raised that one eyebrow again. Eowyn couldn't help but smile. Without saying a word, Faramir was reminding her, 'We're trying to be honest with one another, my beloved Eowyn. I have shared everything with you. Each time my shoulder hurts. Every setback in training, each time I thought I was going to need my own guards to keep me from bashing an honored Council Lord over the head with a water ewer. I even let you know when Adar Aragorn spanked me for returning to full practice 'ere he was satisfied with my healing. Please, won't you tell me how you really feel?' 

 

Eowyn sighed and fidgeted for a moment, but then looked up to meet her husband's eyes again. 'Oh, Bah. Fine.’ She thought for him to read, ‘The pains are worse, but not enough worse to mean anything, I think. Pregnancy is so cursedly uncomfortable. I wish I was a horse, because then we'd already have a lovely foal.' 

 

Faramir couldn't hide a bit of a laugh at that, which garnered him some bemused looks from around the table. Fortunately, it was a small family dinner, a pleasant respite given the upcoming schedule of official appearances and ceremonies.  Which had been lightened, for Eowyn. Being pregnant and near term with the King's own grandson excused one from all but the most necessary official appearances. Not so, for Faramir. 

 

On the contrary, having been officially confirmed as Aragorn's son and the heir-presumptive to the Two Kingdoms, Faramir's schedule for the winter holidays was nearly as busy as the King's. And it had been busy enough, in Eowyn's opinion, when he was just the Steward. But she could understand why Aragorn had wanted the official announcement to occur well before year's end. The King in an overbearing mood might set Eowyn's teeth on edge and send her into an answering temper, but there was no denying that Aragorn loved his son, her husband. 

 

Or even that he loved Eowyn, as odd as that sometimes was for Eowyn. Because of that, it would have been cruel to have this baby be born without Aragorn being able to be publicly known as the grandfather. Especially since Aragorn had recently even managed to refer to himself as a “grandfather” without wincing. Good on him, in Eowyn's opinion. It was quite a thing to go from not even knowing that you have a child to becoming a grandparent in less than a year.  

 

And a lot of adjustment for Eowyn's husband as well. Faramir did not particularly like being the center of attention. Arwen's kindness had helped to ease the transition.

 

Eowyn gave the Queen a grateful smile as Arwen distracted Faramir from his concerns over Eowyn by encouraging him to take a second helping of goose cooked in an orange sauce popular in Imaldris. 

 

"Prince Faramir only tried it to be polite the first time, sister. Do not pester him further." Elrohir commanded. The words were carefully neutral, but the connotation was that Faramir was not their people, and could not be expected to enjoy something which was a delicacy of their homeland, and not his own.  

 

Eowyn glared at Elrohir. Both of Arwen's brothers had been less than helpful, in her opinion. It was hardly Faramir's fault that his mother and the old Lord Steward Ecthelion had caused an awkward situation for their sister. It wasn't really Aragorn's fault either, but that hadn't stopped Elladan and Elrohir from being markedly cool with their brother-by-law. And they were actively rude to Faramir when they could get away with it, although Elladan at least had recently improved. Eowyn was fairly sure that Legolas had been involved in that up to his pointy ears, bless him.

 

Faramir, always the diplomat, demurred politely and distracted Arwen with talk of the celebration the Queen was planning for the children of Minas Tirith on Yestare, the first day of the new year. 

 

Lady Vonild, meanwhile, spared Eowyn the necessity of snapping at Elrohir, by beginning to lecture the younger of Lord Elrond's twin sons on the joys of traveling and the benefits to be found by trying new things and being open to new friendships. Elrohir seemed chastened and a bit overwhelmed. Eowyn smiled, accidentally meeting the amused eyes of Legolas. They shared a grin for a moment. 

 

Legolas was very much in Eowyn's good books. She got the feeling from time to time that he was uncomfortable around her because she was pregnant. But they had enough in common, both being younger in one sense or another than their companions, that he would usually forget that and relax after a short time. And he had been entirely in Faramir's corner, which Eowyn truly appreciated right now.

 

Oh, a majority of the Kingdom seemed receptive to the King's acknowledgment of an adult heir, and her husband was genuinely well-liked, which of course helped. Faramir's Uncle Imrahil and his family, while upset over how the situation had come to be, were pleased to consider their dear friends the new King and Queen to now be kin as well, linked by Aragorn's blood in Faramir. 

 

Others, however, had been less pleased, including Eowyn's beloved elder brother, Queen Arwen’s brothers,  and a number of the Lords of Gondor. Faramir was popular, but he had also made enemies. And other men simply disapproved of the situation based on their version of 'honor,' which did not include acknowledging illegitimate children or the circumstances which had made them (as sparse as the official details on that situation had been). 

 

The Lords of Gondor had mostly been wise enough to keep their disapproval principled rather than personal, and moderate and quiet rather than public and unreasoned. But not all of their kin and their supporters had been so wise. In particular one young Lord Asgaron, the younger son of the Lord of the Lefnui, who had been heard publicly complaining about the King's decision to acknowledge his bastard. Nor had he stopped there! The young Lord, who had not even fought in the late war, had gone on to savage Faramir's courage and abilities as a commander, and ascribe those failings to his irregular birth. ‘What could even so great a leader as Lord Denethor have done, with such poor fodder?’  Lord Asgaron had argued in the fairly public forum of the middle practice courts.  

 

Unfortunately for the Lord of Lefnui's son, Legolas had been present at that particular time and place, and more moderating influences (such as Faramir or Gimli), had not. Legolas promptly challenged the fool to a duel, and Asgaron accepted, expecting the slender elven warrior to be an easy opponent. They had set a time and date for the match, and despite Asgaron's greater height and reach, the match had gone exactly as Eowyn would have expected. Lord Asgaron had been humiliated, much to Eowyn's poorly-hidden joy. Faramir had managed to convince the Lord of the Lefnui not to make the matter public, due to his son having also been involved in the illegal duel. Since then, there hadn't been any more duels, but odd and unfortunate things kept happening to Lord Asgaron and o those of similar opinion. 

 

Eowyn smiled at Legolas again, then winced. Baby, apparently, was not a fan of goose in orange sauce. Either that, or baby found it tremendously exciting. Sometimes, it was hard to tell. Eowyn was ready for baby to be born. 

 

Faramir must have noticed the wince. He was looking at her again. Eowyn clutched the stem of her goblet, promising herself that she would ONLY throw her cider at Faramir if he actually SAID something. To distract both of them, she started paying attention to the conversation between Legolas, Gimli, and Elladan. 

 

"I understand that, Elladan," Legolas said, half-fond, half-irritated, "But I've been thinking that..." 

 

Gimli interrupted by chuckling, "Oh, thinking were you, eh, Pointy Ears? A Mettare miracle, that is." 

 

Eowyn and the baby BOTH objected to that. "That's not funny!" Eowyn scolded fiercely, "Gimli, how could you say something like that to Legolas?" 

 

Gimli's face was a study in surprise. So was Legolas', and Faramir was subtly moving closer to Eowyn. Or not so subtly. The White Lady realized that she was standing, and much angrier than she should be. 

 

"Ah..." Legolas offered quietly, soothingly, much in the same manner he would speak to a skittish horse, "It's really alright, Eowyn. It’s just something we say. A running joke, of sorts...." 

 

"Well, it isn't very funny." Eowyn replied faintly, feeling dizzy. "Someone might misunderstand." Another pain brought one hand back to her swollen abdomen. 

 

"Right you are, dear." Vonild agreed, giving Legolas and Gimli both a look that Eowyn didn't quite understand, "Now, perhaps we should go lie down for a little while." 

 

"But I'm not tired!" Eowyn objected. 

 

"Well, I am." Said Faramir, offering her his hand, "I hope that my Lady will bear me company." 

 

She was clearly being manipulated, but Eowyn felt too odd to care. She leaned heavily on Faramir as he oriented them towards the door, throwing over his shoulder a very soft, "With your leave, Father." 

 

Eowyn barely heard Aragorn's startled, "Of course, ion-nin." But she did wonder why he sounded both worried, and pleased. 

 

After that, it seemed like things moved very quickly, but at the same time not quickly, at all. Eowyn was in labor, but Baby, evidently, was not in a hurry. So she was walking, one arm around Arwen.  Everything was ready in case Baby decided just get on with it and come more quickly. With nothing left to do, Vonild had settled down to knit. The regular sound soothed Eowyn's nerves. The annoying human mid-wife (who had been Aragorn's choice), had been sent away for making Eowyn more nervous and more irritable. 

 

"Are you sure that you shouldn't lie down?" Her loving, anxious, ANNOYING husband asked. 

 

"If you....arrghh, ow..." Eowyn whimpered in a very proud, warrior-like way, "ask me if I am ok again, in any way, shape, or form, I am going to make you....owwww!" 

 

Faramir's face whitened, and he offered her his arm again. Eowyn accepted it, but she'd been serious about making him leave. Just because HIS mother had nearly died in childbirth, didn't mean that anything bad was going to happen to her. And just because she'd bled a little bit early on in the pregnancy because they hadn't known that she was pregnant and she'd been helping build canals....that didn't mean anything either. 

 

"Stop worrying!" She scolded Faramir, who to his credit hadn't actually SAID anything else. But he was THINKING it very LOUDLY. She smacked his upper arm. 

 

His lips quirked into a grin, just for a moment. "I will try, Meleth." He promised. 

 

Eowyn groaned, then squeezed Faramir's arm very tightly as another contraction ripped through her.  

 

"Are you sure that you're alright? Maybe we should..." 

 

Eowyn shoved him away, seized the hilt of her sword from the brackets above their bed, and brandished it fiercely at her husband. 

 

"All right," Arwen interrupted, gently but firmly intercepting and disarming Eowyn. Vonild took over and led Eowyn to the bed, while Arwen hustled Faramir towards the door. "Go wait with your father, Faramir muin-nin. Do not worry, she will want you back soon enough." 

 

"Only if you can CALM DOWN!" Eowyn countered, "Otherwise, Faramir, I love you, but I swear that I will RUN YOU THROUGH!" 

 

Faramir, Valar bless him, tried to turn around and return to her. But Arwen had the door to the Steward's main suite open, and Aragorn collected Faramir with a gentle arm, "Come, ion-nin. Wait with us for a while."  

 

"Brave man." Eowyn heard Elladan comment, just before the door closed again.

 


	2. Legolas pov,  Gimli's pov

*****

 

**[Chapter 2]**

 

With the departure of Eowyn the meal came to a somewhat abbreviated ending. First Aragorn and Faramir had excused themselves and then Elladan and Elrohir had gone off to answer a request for help at the Houses of Healing. Legolas was not unhappy to see them all depart; there had been far too much talk about the unfortunate accidents that have befallen Lord Asgaron in the last few days during the early part of the meal for his comfort.

 

And far too many folk kept turning to him to see how he was reacting to the comments, why was is it that everyone suspected him of being involved?

 

Just because he had called the man to account for his slanderous words about Faramir’s birth and his present position as heir to Aragorn. It was all very well for Gimli to lecture him on ‘overreacting’ but he had not been there, he had not seen the look on the young fool’s face or the way he twisted what he had said to make Faramir look bad.

 

Legolas had not considered his reaction as being overzealous and he still did not deem it to be so, even after a lengthy discussion on the subject from his dwarven guardian the sting of which had stayed with him for several days it only added to his determination to make Asgaron pay.

 

What was more he knew in his heart of hearts that had Gimli been present when the original insult had been aired his dwarf would have felt exactly as he had.

 

Asgaron was an arrogant puppy, who had sheltered safely within the walls of his father’s house while Faramir had ridden out to protect his home and suffered terribly because of it. It was often the way with young mortals he had concluded, the ones who shouted the loudest actually did the least.

 

Had Asgaron apologized when he had first confronted him, Legolas might not have been so hard on him, but the fool had proceeded to make matters worse for himself by slandering not only Faramir, but also Aragorn’s marriage to Arwen whom he described as a bedamned elf.

 

That insult no one could expect him to swallow, not even in the cause of reconciliation and understanding between the different races on Arda.

 

In fact he rather saw it as his duty to show the youth the error of his ways especially since Asgaron had truly believed that he could best him in a fight. Another piece of stupidity that really only highlighted the moronic tendency of the idiot.

 

Legolas’ eyes danced as he recalled the youth’s swift ‘education’ in the fine art of elven fighting techniques.

 

They had met for their duel, something which Legolas only found out later had been deemed illegal half an age ago in the gardens of one of Asgaron’s friends’ houses on the sixth level of the city. The high walls gave them some semblance of privacy away from the guard patrols. 

 

And while he had waited for Asgaron to don his protective clothing for it had been agreed that the fight would be settled by a single touch of the sword blade tip on the opponent’s body. Legolas had gone through a few of the more advanced weapon training drills that he had learned from Brethilas and Glorfindel.

He had chosen them specifically because they were not only fast but also quite spectacular to watch since the drills incorporated leaps, rolls and jumps all while he twirled and stabbed at the air with his twin knives.

 

Asgaron and his cronies were somewhat taken aback by the speed and fluidity of his movements. But having gone so far and boasted so loudly about how he would soon show the ‘pretty elf’ how real men fought there was nothing for it but for Asgaron to take his place in the circle drawn in the earth, and lift his sword in salute so that the duel could begin.

 

Legolas knew he should be ashamed of his next actions but frankly he was anything but, he had toyed with the young lord of Lefnui. Taunting, tapping, and tripping.

The youth had spent most of the bout on the ground and would be both sore and bruised from the raps and thumps Legolas had given him using just the hilts of his knives so that the duel did not end too soon. Not until Asgaron was on his knees almost did Legolas deliver the coup de grâce and accept the man’s apologies.

 

And he would have been contented with that had he not heard later that Asgaron was seeking to excuse his ignominious defeat onto others by blaming a friend who had acted as referee during the bout.

 

It was the sort of behavior that Legolas had been taught long ago to abhor it was so typical of one he had come to see was little more than a whining braggart who refused to take responsibility for his own actions. So, when Asgaron began to meet with a series of unfortunate and highly embarrassing mishaps Legolas had not been at all surprised even though not all of them were being instigated by him!

 

“Lad are ye wool gathering again?”

 

Legolas looked to where Gimli was standing by the door obviously awaiting his presence so they could go down to the king’s private chambers to wait for news on the imminent birth.

 

He offered his guardian a small grin and apologized, “I was thinking of Eowyn, will she be all right do you think?”

 

His friendship with Eowyn was something that Legolas had come to value, not least because the Shield Maiden was one of his strongest supporters, as had been shown during dinner, not that Gimli deserved to be scolded, but Legolas could not help but appreciate Eowyn’s defense.

 

She had also made it clear that unlike many of his other extended family members presently in the Citadel she fully approved of his duel with Asgaron had she not been so heavily pregnant he rather thought Eowyn would have sought out Asgaron herself and taken him to task. It would have been amusing to watch for Legolas suspected she would have easily bested the man which might have dented his pride even more than his defeat at the hands of the ‘effete’ elf.

 

Still he had become increasingly uncomfortable about her as her pregnancy bloomed, he was not ignorant of the process of childbirth of course, but the thought of it still made him queasy for he knew that giving birth for mortal kind could be dangerous and was very messy.

 

He was glad for her sake that Aragorn, Arwen and the Elrondionnath were all available to give her the support she needed at this time, although he rather thought that Lady Vonild would be the one to whom Eowyn would turn. The others may all be exceptional healers but none of them had the practical experience of giving birth that Mam did.

 

“Aye she will be fine, no doubt, never did a female have so many healers at her beck and call as she has. Come lamb let us take a stroll outside I could do with a pipe and I don’t want to sully those fine new drapes of Arwen’s with the smell of pipe-weed.”

 

Together the pair strolled out through the floor length glass windows into the Queen’s Garden and while Gimli packed and lit his pipe Legolas took a moment to send a prayer to the Valar for a swift and successful birth for the White Lady of Rohan.

 

Above them there was an angry shout from Eowyn and then the sound of a door being slammed. Gimli chuckled, “It will’na be long before Aragorn and Faramir join us I’m thinkin. I remember Mam threw Gloin out when she was in labor with Dorbryn; he went as well, not wanting an axe to be taken to his beard he told me.”

 

“How long will it take?”

 

Gimli gave a shrug, “each time is different, it could be hours it could be a day.”

 

Legolas grimaced but before he could comment the twins arrived each giving him a searching look, as they took the goblets of wine Gimli was offering them.

 

“Well that was interesting” Elrohir began, as they settled onto a bench in the garden.

 

He answered Gimli’s gruff, “What was interesting?” with a laugh

 

And it was Elladan who continued their tale, “The chief healer was in quite a state when we got there. Apparently the son of one of Gondor’s great lords had met with an accident with a barrel of tree resin and the healer was unsure how best to proceed…”

 

“Tree resin?”

 

“It is very sticky initially then it sets hard.” Legolas put in helpfully.

 

“Aye that I know,” Gimli grumbled, then frowned, “from the look on the pair of ye’s faces I would hazard a guess that the boy who had this ‘accident’ was known to ye?”

 

“Indeed he was, it was that poor unfortunate Lord Asgaron the son of Lord Lefnui; who the healers have seen entirely too much of lately.” Elrohir turned his gaze into Legolas who gave him his patented innocent smile in return merely commenting.

 

“He does appear to be accident prone.”

 

This time it was Gimli who gave him a glare. “Either that or he is being targeted as we were only discussing at dinner earlier, something I do not approve of no matter the provocation offered.”

 

Ignoring this latest lecture on the subject of revenge as he had the earlier ones Legolas instead asked what the healers had suggested to solve the ‘sticky situation.

 

“They were proposing to shave the boys head. It is not funny Thranduilion,” Elladan added as Legolas snorted. “He was quite distraught as was his father.”

 

“It is easily enough removed if you know which herbs to use.” Legolas responded, “I would have thought the healers in Minas Tirith would have known that.”

 

“Perhaps they are not as knowledgeable as the folk of the wood son of Thranduil.” Elrohir added his mite to the conversation.

 

Legolas shrugged, “that is not my problem.”

 

“It will be your problem if I find out ye have been playing your games again, Lamb.” Gimli threatened one finger pointing just under Legolas’ nose. “Ye have been told to stop and I am warning ye for the last time. I do not want to hear about another accident happening to that fool while ye are here in the city, am I making myself clear enough to ye?”

 

“Not all of the things that have happened to him can be placed at my door!” Legolas defended himself.

 

“But a great many have your signature on them” Elladan put in.

 

“Or yours” the prince responded hotly, “You two taught me much of what I know.”

 

Their argument might have become quite heated save for another cry from the chamber above them and the arrival of Aragorn and Faramir with Faramir looking pale and shaky. Aragorn pushed him down onto the bench and then forced his head between his knees telling him to take deep breaths.

 

And in the ensuing rush to offer him solace and comfort the disagreement over who was to blame for all the accidents involving Asgaron was forgotten for a while at least.

 

Xxxx

 

“All will be well, lad, ye’ll see,” Gimli added his voice to those offering comfort to the poor anxious Faramir who had just entered the Queen’s garden with his father and King who was now loosening Faramir’s collar.  One of Elrond’s sons (Gimli still couldn’t tell them apart)  plied him with wine, while the other snidely advised him to breathe through his nose to keep from hyperventilating.  Even Legolas, who was quite uncomfortable with the whole business of childbirth and any discussion of it, did his best to offer succor to the young father to be, though Gimli thought uncharitably that in Legolas’ case it had more to do with his wanting to keep the focus of everyone else on Faramir rather than on him and his involvement over what had been happening to the young fool, Asgaron. 

 

The dwarf was not fooled for one moment by calf eyes or an innocent smile. He knew very well who was behind most of the misfortunes that had befallen the cocky young human and he knew for certain who was behind one of them.  Gimli puffed at his pipe to hide his disquiet at the thought, for after the initial fairly innocuous incident the pranks had gotten significantly more creative and daring besides increasing in frequency.  There had been pranks involving everything from small reptiles in cloak pockets, to sticky substances spread on the insides of clothing.  After that it was disgusting matter ‘accidentally’ finding its way into Asgaron’s plate in the public dining hall, or the time his wine glass had evidently been rubbed with the juices of hot chili peppers causing the man to gasp and choke and reach for his water goblet, which had predictably been treated in the same manner as the wine glass.  Legolas had especially enjoyed that one and was thrown into fits of giggles for the rest of the night just remembering the sight of Asgaron frantically trying to find relief in the water goblets of his stupefied friends. 

 

It was then that Gimli had pulled his amused charge aside and told him in no uncertain terms that such things had to stop. 

 

“I’ll admit it was funny at first, lad, but enough is enough,” the dwarf had warned.  “Ye’ve paid him back and more for his insulting words and now ye need to stop before ye get into real trouble.”

 

But Gimli might as well have been speaking into the wind for all the good that speech did him, for Legolas had only pointed out that the idiot deserved whatever he got. 

“And besides not _everything_ that has happened to him can be accounted as my fault.” 

 

Gimli sighed and let it go, for he knew that statement was true enough.  Legolas may have perpetrated the majority of the pranks against Asgaron, but the elfling hadn’t been the one to start it and considering who it was who had started it the dwarf felt he had very little footing to stand on.   He hoped against hope that that would be the end of it.

 

 Unfortunately that didn’t turn out to be the case.  The pranks had only increased in severity after that; incidents involving trip wires and booby-trapped doors and even a colony of fire ants finding their way into Asgaron’s boots.  And now there was the encounter with the sticky tree resin, which is what made the dwarf lose patience altogether as he had.  Someone was going to end up getting hurt or property was going to get damaged and when it was discovered who was behind all the trouble plaguing Lord Lefnui’s son they might have a real problem on their hands.  Legolas did not seem to realize that he was not above the laws of the city and that he needed to think through the consequences of his actions which at the very least could sully his good name and at the most could end up with the dwarf having to retrieve him from Minas Tirith’s detention house for the second time in less than six months. 

 

 If it hadn’t been for Faramir and his diplomatic handling of the illegal duel that the elf had instigated with the young lord,  that very well might have been the case only two weeks ago.  As it had turned out the Lord of Lefnui had been outraged when he had heard of his son’s being involved in illegal activities and had intended to insist on charges being brought against the one who had instigated such an outrage. He had created such a fuss that Faramir was called on to smooth matters over and had brought Gimli along as someone who would agree to take charge of the elf’s care if he could convince the offended lord not to pursue the matter to the letter of the law. 

 

Legolas, who had told his guardian that he was going to be ‘attending an entertainment’ in the garden of an acquaintance, had carefully stayed out of Gimli’s sight after the duel had ended, so Faramir’s fetching Gimli to come along to  see Lord Lefnui and his son was the first the dwarf had heard of it.

 

Gimli had been furious at the time, not so much over what had happened to Asgaron but over the fact that Legolas obviously hadn’t even considered making sure what the laws were before offering such a challenge.  Of course he had been worried as well. Not that he was concerned that Asgaron had gotten the best of his elf.   He had no doubts that Legolas had come out the winner, for he had seen Asgaron, and the human obviously never stood a chance.  The young Lord was taller and considerably broader and heavier than the lithe elf, but Gimli knew that Legolas could have easily beaten the great arrogant oaf with his eyes closed., so he wasn’t worried on that account.  In fact Gimli felt it might even be prudent to point out to his charge that there was little honor in defeating such an unworthy opponent.  No his worries were over other things-issues he attempted to make plain to his very put out elf later on that evening.

 

“What were ye thinking Lad?  It could have been dangerous.”

 

“Dangerous?” Legolas scoffed.  “It wasn’t a fight to the death you know!  Besides, you insult me if you think that imbecile ever stood a chance!”

 

“In a fair fight of course not,” Gimli amended.  “But was he so honorable a man that ye were certain he wouldna’ cheat?  That his cronies might not have decided to gang up on ye?  Was there anyone there who would have taken your part had the crowd decided to turn on ye?”

 

Legolas looked abashed for just a moment, for he clearly hadn’t even considered such a thing, but he rallied very soon.

 

“Oh Gimli, they were all a bunch of cowardly piss ants,” he  asserted. “I could have taken them all without breaking a sweat.”

 

Now that was just common boasting, the dwarf knew, though he couldn’t deny the fact that it _was_ possible at least. Still that was hardly the point!

 

“Be that as it may, young elf, it still doesna’ excuse your careless actions, the fact that ye deceived me about your plans for the evening and the fact that ye broke the law.”

 

“I didn’t know it was illegal!” Legolas angrily pointed out.

 

“Well ye should have checked!” Gimli roared just as hotly. “Besides that ye have no sense of proportion, Laddie! Ye have to learn when it is important to take risks and when it isn’t.  For instance taking chances to destroy Sauron and his minions is reasonable, doing so to make some mewling idiot pay for his insulting words is not.”

 

“You did not hear what he said!”  Legolas pointed out, but Gimli continued to lecture as if he hadn’t heard the elf speak.

 

 “ Have ye no thought at all for self preservation Lamb?  If not for your physical well being, at least for the reputation of your good name and that of your father?”

 

It was a good point, Gimli thought, but Legolas only proved that he wasn’t hearing a thing by repeating that the dwarf hadn’t heard the original insult.   That answer caused the dwarf to growl in heavy frustration and feel very much like he was pounding his head against a brick wall since trying to reason with such an obstinate creature was akin to the same thing after all! 

 

After that Gimli had given up trying to reason with the lad, thinking that a heavy dwarven hand making repeated contact with a vulnerable elven backside might do the trick that reasoning words had failed to do.  It hadn’t been a token punishment either, for the dwarf had taken his considerable worry and frustration out on the child’s admittedly deserving hide.  Gimli was not proud of that, for even though he had hardly been out of control, he knew he should have let go of his frustration before dealing with the lad in such a way and Legolas hadn’t been able to sit in comfort for some days afterward.  Even so the most he got from the elfling was a sniffly apology for having deceived the dwarf and caused him so much worry.  Legolas never said he was sorry for what he had done to the smug Lord Asgaron and Gimli knew he couldn’t pound him into doing so, nor did he want to.  He only hoped the matter would be over and done with for good.

 

Oh how he wished that had been the case and it very well might have been if it hadn’t been for what happened the very next day.  

 

Gimli himself had heard that the arrogant Asgaron had been spreading it about the city that the fight had not been a fair one, that the referee had obviously been captivated by such a beautiful face and called the contest unfairly and helped the elf cheat!  The dwarf had been absolutely livid!  How dare that haughty juvenile scoundrel accuse his elf of being less than honorable in a fight! He did not hesitate to seek the boy and his father out to give them both the benefit of his thoughts on such outrageous lies being told about his lad. 

 

At his father’s behest, Asgaron had offered a lukewarm apology, making things worse in Gimli’s opinion, for it was easy to see that neither father nor son meant it, but it meant that Gimli had no choice but to accept the insincere words of regret.  How he wished now he had let it go at that, but as it turned out the dwarf was still steamed about the event that evening in the Hall of Feasts where a celebratory meal honoring the first day of Mettarë was being held.  Arriving a bit early and seeing Lord Asgaron’s name at a place setting reminded the dwarf of something he hadn’t thought of since his family had still lived in the Blue Hills where he had spent his childhood-a trick he had  played on his cousin when he was just a lad.  It was a simple, harmless prank really, designed to bring the lordling down a peg or two without causing him any physical harm. 

 

Making certain no one saw him do it, Gimli had cautiously poured the entire contents of a water pitcher onto the upholstered seat of Asgaron’s chair and then smiled to himself as he waited for Legolas to meet him for the celebratory feast.  He also arranged it so he had a full view of Asgaron and his party and tuned into the conversation at that table as well.

 

Of course at first Asgaron noticed nothing, for it obviously took quite some time for the water to saturate all the layers of fine clothing that the pompous young lord wore, but before long Gimli could hear Lord Lefnui quietly admonishing his son to be still.

 

“It is highly unseemly to squirm like a child in need of the facilities Asgaron,” he hissed. out a warning. “Sit still boy!”

 

But Asgaron must have found it impossible to do so, for soon the Lord of Lefnui was ordering his son to leave the table causing a titter to rise from his friends when he stood to do so.  Gimli stifled a snort at the sight, for the water that soaked Asgaron’s clothing showed up even better than he had hoped, leaving dark wet stains everywhere the youth’s body had touched the chair giving the illusion that the young man had wet himself.  Gimli found this so amusing that he elbowed Legolas who was sitting next to him and nodded his head toward the fuming Asgaron.  Legolas didn’t even bother to disguise his delighted chuckle causing Asgaron to glare at him as if he were the one responsible.

 

All at the top table, except Gimli turned accusatory eyes toward the elf, who immediately defended himself to his guardian. 

 

“I didn’t do it Elvellon, I swear it!”

 

Everyone present looked stunned as the dwarf patted Legolas’ arm and said, “Aye lamb, no need to worry. I believe ye.”

 

Legolas was surprised as well.

 

“You do?”

 

“Indeed I do, laddie.”

 

“Oh!” Legolas didn’t seem to know what to do now that there was no need to defend his position.  “Well thank you Elvellon.” He said in surprise, and then under his breath, “I wish I had thought of it though.”

  

Now Gimli watched the others as they gathered around Faramir and inwardly groaned.  In a childish fit of ire he had begun something that he now realized he was going to have to end before things got too hot to handle.   And there was no time like the present to act. It wouldn’t take long to do what he knew had to be done and Faramir had plenty of folks to help take care of him anyway.  Gimli caught Legolas’ eye and crooked his finger. 

 

“Come laddie, you and I have business to attend to,” he said, noticing that the elf’s eyes grew rather round in alarm.

 

“But Faramir…”

 

“Will survive for half an hour without us, which is how long we’re likely to be gone.  Come lamb, let us go,”  the dwarf insisted.  “Now please.”

 

Likely not wanting to risk an uncomfortable discussion in front of his friends, Legolas followed his guardian obediently back inside and then down the corridor.

 

“Umm, where are we going Gimli?”  he asked a little shakily. 

 

“Ye are going to the King’s private quarters to find whatever herbs ye need to remove tree resin while I am going straight to the healing wards to try to stop the healers from shaving that poor fool’s head.”

 

Legolas scowled at the order.  “But Gimli why should we help him?  He is a …”

 

“Whatever he is and whatever he has said matters not anymore!  It is time and then some for this childish madness to stop.    Enough is enough and this time I am putting my foot down.  Now do as I say immediately or ye will grievously regret it. Now GO!”

 

Turning his charge toward the general direction of the King’s private pantry he applied a smart slap to the elf’s thigh that left him scowling but cowed enough to keep quiet and obediently doing as he had been told.

 

 In the meantime Gimli hurried off to the healing wards where he immediately recognized  the nasal whining of Asgaron.  The poor healers were doing their best to reason with the distraught boy.

 

“It is only hair, Lord Asgaron,” one of the healers tried to soothe.  “It will grow back soon enough.”

 

But Asgaron was clearly furious and beyond soothing.

 

“It is the work of that prissy little Sauron bedamned elfling, I know it,” he shouted, “First he cheated me in the duel and now he stoops to childish pranks and all because he felt the need to defend the honor of the King’s illegitimate get!  Sounds like there is more than meets the eye between those two if you ask me. Maybe Lady Eowyn has more to worry over than her husband being a bastard!”

 

Gimli did not know how the healer responded for he did not stay to hear more for fear he would not be able to keep himself from barging into the healing ward and throttling the despicable wretch for his vile words.

 

Instead he rushed back outside into the cold fresh air, just in time to intercept Legolas who had arrived with the required items. 

 

“Shall I take them in myself, Elvellon, or are you going to do it ?”  he asked, resigned to the inevitable, but Gimli had other things in mind now. 

 

“Neither one, Laddie, I’ve changed my mind!”

 

“Changed your mind Elvellon?  Are you quite serious?”

 

“I’ve never been more serious in my life, elfling. Ye may return those things to the king’s  pantry!”

 

“But Gimli…I don’t understand.”

 

“What’s not to understand, elfling?  How many ways can ye interpret ‘I’ve changed my mind?’” Gimli demanded almost in a shout.  Then realizing he was taking his frustration out on the wrong person he lowered his voice a bit.  “I just decided a little less hair might help that blasted fool to learn a little proper humility, that’s all. I promise I haven’t gone off my rocker, lad.”

 

Legolas looked decidedly skeptical about that. 

 

Gimli sighed.  “Look, lamb I know ye didn’t start the series of pranks that have been perpetrated against that little weasel of a lordling.  But however they were started, it is time now for them to end.  Let this be the finale.  Please, lamb.  I would not like to have to spring ye from gaol again anytime soon.  Once per visit to the city is quite enough!”

 

Legolas had to laugh at that. 

 

“Very well Elvellon,” he gave in, “If anything further happens to stupid  ‘Arse-garon’ it won’t be because of me.”

 

“That’s my good lad,” Gimli praised,  “I thank ye for that.”

 

‘But Gimli… I have to know…how did you know I didn’t saturate the dining hall seat? Do you know who did it?”

 

The dwarf let out a long breath, “Well, laddie, it’s a funny story…”

 


	3. Faramir's pov, Legolas pov

xxxxxxxxx

 

[Faramir POV, just after the Steward was forcibly ejected from their bedroom where Eowyn is in labor] 

 

Faramir sighed in relief as Aragorn guided him into the cool air of the garden. The Steward had never been more grateful for his father's support than he was right now, as he feared for the life and health of his beloved wife and unborn child. He made no objection as Aragorn shoved him onto a bench and began undoing the stiff lacing at the throat of Faramir's new tunic. 

 

"She made me leave." Faramir gasped. 

 

"She's a woman in the birthing room, nitwit." Faramir's cousin Erchirion pointed out with irreverent affection. "You're lucky she didn't break all the bones in your hand. That's been known to happen, you know." 

 

No, Faramir hadn't known, and that was fairly horrifying, but what was worse...

 

"I could lose her, I could lose them both, and I can't even be there with her...."  

 

“All will be well, lad, ye’ll see,” Gimli countered, his voice as calm as his mother's. Lady Vonild had been a blessing from the Valar, and Faramir was glad for her being with Eowyn now. She was undoubtedly more aid to Eowyn than he was right now.  The thought of what Eowyn might be going through while Faramir was exiled to the garden was enough to make his heart start pounding again. 

 

Elladan shoved a goblet of wine into Faramir's hand. Elrohir taunted him about vomiting, or so at least it seemed to Faramir (who might might well be sick in earnest if he actually drank the wine). Faramir waved it off, wishing that Arwen's brothers were elsewhere.  Aragorn's foster-brothers had made their disapproval of Aragorn's actions with respect to Faramir quietly clear. During their previous visits to Minas Tirith, Elladan and Elrohir had kindly indulged Faramir's interest in their elven heritage, even going so far as to share tips from their nearly three thousand years of military training. During this visit they continued to spar with Faramir...only now they took every opportunity to make those experiences unpleasant without showing open enmity. Such as during arms practice earlier in the day....

 

Faramir had been sparring with Elrohir. The Steward had taken another wound to his shoulder just a few months previous, and was still working back up to full strength. To their credit, the Elrondionnath were both careful not to hurt Faramir or to press his healing shoulder beyond its endurance. But they did call Faramir on his mistakes in what he felt was an unnecessarily embarrassing fashion. 

 

"You dropped your guard, Lord...Prince Faramir." Elrohir chided, taking the time to smack Faramir's bottom sharply with the flat of his blade. "If you had done so in a real engagement, your opponent could have stabbed you in the back. Do take care to improve that."   

 

And what was there to do but for Faramir to thank the Peredhil Lord for the lesson? 

 

Faramir's attention moved back to the present as Legolas patted his knee and offered his own assurances that all would turn out well. Faramir reached out to catch his elven friend's hand and squeeze it in thanks. Faramir did not even know how to thank Legolas for his friendship over the past weeks and months. Just earlier that day, Faramir had overheard the Prince of the Greenwood taking his elder cousins to task. 

 

"Leave it be, Legolas." Elladan had lectured, "We are merely training Faramir as we once trained you." 

 

"No, you are not." Legolas retorted, "You are purposely pushing him to make errors and then humiliating him for those flaws. Aye, you are also teaching him to be a better warrior and avoid those pitfalls, but you could do so in a kinder manner. And that was how you trained me. Your treatment of Faramir does not speak well of either of you, my cousins, much as I respect you and love you. Faramir has enough to deal with, what with..."

 

Faramir had left the armory at that point, needing to be on time for a meeting, and already feeling somewhat guilty for eavesdropping to the extent he had. 

 

"Faramir?" Aragorn prompted, placing a hand on Faramir's arm in the cold, quiet garden. 

 

"It smells like snow." Faramir murmured inconsequentially, near overwhelmed with worry. 

 

"Mmm." The King replied, looking up at the clouds moving across the starry sky. "I remember one Mettarë when I was younger...." 

 

Aragorn's story distracted Faramir, successfully enough that he didn't even notice the departure of Legolas and Gimli. When he inquired after them, to his surprise it was Elladan who answered. 

 

"Lord Gimli pulled our little cousin away." 

 

"The Lord of Lefnui's young son Asgaron is in the house of healing, having been the victim of yet another unfortunate accident." Elrohir said disapprovingly.  

 

Faramir winced. Well he remembered being woken in the middle of the night to deal with the enraged Lord, after Asgaron had lost an illegal duel to the Prince of the Greenwood. Faramir had been touched but a bit stupefied by Legolas' overzealous defense of his honor. The Steward himself had expected a negative fall-out from King Elessar's acknowledgement of him as illegitimate son and heir presumptive, and had been doing his best to ignore Asgaron and his ilk. A task which had been complicated by his spirited young wife's desire to mount Asgaron's head on a wall. All in all, Legolas had taken a middle route of sorts, but Faramir had still felt badly for his elven friend, getting into so much trouble with his guardian on Faramir's behalf. So much so that Faramir had pulled Legolas aside after evening meal the following day, in hopes of raising his spirits and soothing his ruffled feathers. 

 

"You couldn't have stopped me from challenging that oaf." Legolas told Faramir defiantly, apparently anticipating another scold, "And Gimli has already told me how foolish he thinks it was. I am sorry that I worried you and put you to such trouble interceding with the fathead's father, but really Faramir, he had it coming!" 

 

"Peace, Legolas." Faramir urged, eschewing a seat himself so that Legolas would not feel the need to try to sit. The poor young elf had been shifting uncomfortably during dinner, leading Faramir to believe that Gimli had dealt with Legolas getting involved in a duel in much the same manner as Boromir had dealt with a younger Faramir after he had done something similar.  "In truth, you have saved Eowyn from the temptation of doing something even more scandalously unwise." Faramir confessed with a wry half-smile.

 

Legolas was startled into a silvery laugh. "I see. No wonder she, ah, prepared cinnamon biscuits and then taffy as gifts for me." Legolas leaned closer, a look of desperation moving over his fair face, "Please, can you stop her from ever cooking for me again? The hard-as-rocks biscuits were bad enough, but the taffy is burnt, and I believe that Whisper might have stepped in the mixture as it was setting, since there is tabby cat hair embedded in some strands. Faramir, it is completely inedible yet I do not want to hurt her feelings..."

 

"No wonder she was berating the poor cat." Faramir murmured, stifling an appalled chuckle. His wife did many things well; cooking was not one of them. "I'll encourage her to focus her efforts on outfitting you like a Rider instead. She's better with a needle." Anything with a sharp edge, in fact.  "But that's not what I wanted to tell you. I had actually thought to share with you that you are not the only one to have ever gotten in trouble for dueling." Faramir explained, with a rueful smile. 

 

Legolas' eyes widened, "You, Faramir?" 

 

"I was fifteen." Faramir explained, shaking his head, "Very determined to prove myself. One of my training officers, a youth named Norwain, had been picking on me, and anyone who showed friendship towards me. I knew him to be an enemy of Boromir's, Norwain having been passed over for a promotion on my brother's say-so. And quite rightly, for Norwain was not well suited to command. But he was an excellent swordsman, and I had no business losing my temper and challenging him to a duel over his slurs of my brother and my friends." 

 

"But challenge him I did," Faramir continued, "And, much to my own surprise, he stumbled over his own two feet and I managed to disarm him, winning the duel. I had expected that he would injure me." Faramir told Legolas candidly, "The duel was to first blood, and I was the Steward's son, so I did not think that he would cause me irreparable harm. But I went into it planning to lose and bleed, but hopefully at least prove myself tough enough and hot-headed enough that he would not treat me and mine so inequitably in the future." Faramir huffed a laugh, "It turned out that he thought me to be such a laughable opponent that he decided to celebrate in advance, and came to the bout half-drunk." 

 

Legolas shook his head, "Faramir my friend, the Valar must have been looking out for you that day." 

 

"Yes." Faramir agreed soberly, before grinning and shaking his head, "Unfortunately, my brother got wind of the duel, and arrived just in time to see the end of it." 

 

"Oh dear." Legolas commented, with an amused but compassionate smile. 

 

"Yes." Faramir agreed, "He was not amused, and expounded on such at great length by applying his paddle to my backside." 

 

"I sympathize." Legolas said ruefully, at which point Faramir had tactfully changed the subject. 

 

Later that day, the Steward had overheard Lady Vonild reproaching her son. 

 

"I think that ye were too hard on Legolas." 

 

"Of course, ye would." Gimli grumbled, "Ye always take his side."

 

Vonild might have swatted at her son, since Gimli made an indignant noise. Faramir couldn't be sure, as he hadn't actually seen them. He wouldn't have even listened, if there had been some polite way to extract himself from the far, dark corner of the room wherein lay the rainfall records he had been reviewing.  

 

"Oh, aye, alright." Gimli conceded, half reluctant, half-regretful, "I might have been too hard on the lad. But he was completely unrepentant, Mam! Ye should have heard him...." 

 

Much to Faramir's surprise, Vonild chuckled. "Very richly do you deserve your elf, my son. He is quite a bit like you when you were younger."  

 

"Well, I dinna know about that." Gimli countered, his deep voice turning soft with fondness, "But my lad's heart was in the right place, even if his sense was lacking." 

 

"You'd do well to keep that in mind." Vonild said tartly, "As did your father when Edwin took a fancy to Dorbryn, and took to teasing her. One would have thought that your poor father's hand would have worn thin, so often did he have to belabor the point of leaving that poor dwarfling alone on your backside." 

 

"Well, that young buffoon Asgaron didn't pull on Faramir's braids and make him cry." Gimli replied, "Nor do I recall ye reminding Da that I was well meaning, when he took me over his knee for setting Edwin's beard afire." 

 

"That's as may be." Vonild replied tolerantly, "But we both know that Legolas is as much like a son to you as he is like a grandson to me. Make sure he knows it, after you came down so hard on him for acting like your son." 

 

"Aye, perhaps I should..." Gimli mused. 

 

Faramir's thoughts were interrupted by the reappearance of Legolas and Gimli. Despite his intense concern over his wife and unborn child, Faramir worried whether everything was well between the two of them after Asgaron's latest 'mishap.'  

 

"And where have you been, cousin?" Elrohir inquired sternly of Legolas. 

 

Legolas answered straight-faced, although his eyes were gleaming oddly. "Oh, discussing...things. How it is unkind to make others look like fools, even if it seems like they deserve it at the....oww! Gimli!" Legolas objected as his dwarven guardian tugged on one of his braids and frowned at him in a quelling fashion. 

 

Aragorn kindly changed the subject. Faramir motioned Gimli over, ostensibly to ask him yet again how much experience his mother had as a midwife. 

 

"Lad, I've told ye, it will be fine." Gimli began. 

 

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Legolas." Faramir quietly relayed. 

 

"Legolas?" Gimli asked, looking surprised. 

 

"Yes. I know that it is not my place to say so, and so I hope that you will pardon me for interfering, but I think that he is taking too much to heart your criticisms over the whole tangle with young Lord Asgaron. I understand that Legolas' conduct has been in some respects wanting, but I think it important that you make sure he knows that it is his conduct you find wanting, and not him. Particularly as the year ends, when he is undoubtedly missing his family." Faramir said firmly, hoping that the dwarf would not take his advice too much askance. 

 

An astonishing array of emotions moved across Gimli's face. "That's not at all...oh, never mind. I will be sure of that, indeed, Faramir. Was there anything else?" The dwarf asked testily. 

 

"Well, yes, I did want to ask you again about your mother's experience in the birthing chamber..." Faramir began. 

 

Gimli's eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything, Arwen interrupted them.

 

"Eowyn has asked for you." 

 

Faramir didn't have to be told twice.   

 

XXXX

 

Legolas snorted as Faramir leapt up from the bench and made to follow Arwen back inside only to be held back by Aragorn’s hand on his belt.

 

“Gently, quietly, ion-nin,” he cautioned his son. “Is the birth imminent beloved?”

 

Arwen turned to answer him “Lady Vonild believes it may be the case and Eowyn seems anxious to have Faramir with her as she enters into this final phase. She is doing very well,” She reassured the anxious father to be. “And she is in need your strength and calm good sense now”

 

“You are more like to have another invalid on your hands, sister,” Elrohir joked having taken in the pallor of Faramir’s face.

“Indeed you would do better not to go Prince Faramir if you are going to fall into a faint when the birth happens.”

 

Legolas was about to take up the cudgels in his friends defense when Arwen beat him to it.

 

The Queen’s dark eyes flashed, “As I recall you did not do so well the first time Adar called upon you to help him in the birthing chamber Elrohir so do not try to make Faramir feel ashamed of his unease. It is natural for a father and husband to be anxious for his wife and unborn child, indeed it would be a poor man, or elf,” she added acerbically “who was not.”

 

Having in this masterly manner silenced her brothers Arwen took Faramir’s hand and led him from the garden to a chorus from the others wishing him and Eowyn well.

In the wake of his departure things fell silent for a while.

 

Aragorn and Gimli taking advantage of the absence of Arwen lit their pipes again, while the Elrondionnath having been bested by their sister took themselves off to the other side of the garden to talk between themselves which left Legolas on his own.

 

He sat on the bench so recently vacated by Faramir and put his hands back behind him to support himself while he swung his legs backwards and forwards, his face looking up into the night sky and watched the stars come out. Had he been home for the Solstice he would have climbed a tall tree to count the stars for there the forest seemed to swallow the light of the moon and stars and the darkness while no longer dangerous was still deep. Here in the White City it was almost as if there were stars not only in the night sky but also in the myriad of lights in the six levels of the city below him. Each window seemed to hold a colored lantern or candle to welcome in Mettarë while late as it was the sound of revelry could still be distinguished by elven hearing. There was much anticipation and joy for the upcoming festivities not only here in the Citadel but throughout the city which after many years was now free of the taint of evil.

 

Thoughts of the celebrations in Eryn Lasgalen made Legolas feel homesick so he resolutely turned his thoughts back to the present and what Gimli had just told him.

 

Gimli had not only changed his mind over helping Asgaron he had admitted to actually playing a trick on the fool himself!

How had he phrased it? … Ah yes … “Well, laddie, it’s a funny story…”

 

The prank had been amusing Legolas had found it quite entertaining on the night it had happened, indeed, he had eventually fallen into a fit of hiccups he had laughed so much at the spectacle of Asgaron hurrying from the table, his clothes drenched and giving the impression that he had, had an ‘unfortunate accident’. He had wondered at the time who might have played such a trick, since he knew it was certainly not him; it had never occurred to him that his dwarf was the perpetrator.

 

It had been funnier still to watch Gimli hedge around the issue of his involvement, Legolas had wondered if he hemmed and hawed as much as the son of Gloin, if he shuffled his feet and ran his hand down his beard, well not down his beard but down his braids maybe. If he did then it was no wonder Gimli found it so easy to see through his pathetic attempts at prevarication. It might prove useful to practice before a mirror in future before he tried to convince his dwarf that he was not to blame for whatever new catastrophe had befallen someone or something.

But of course Gimli had managed to put his own particular slant on the situation and to somehow justify his actions, why was he never able to do that Legolas wondered?

Was it something to do with being from a different species or just that he in particular was very poor at being successfully economical with the truth and seemingly incapable of lying.

Even so, the whole episode had been wonderfully comical and surprising because it simply was not done for his guardian to have to explain away his conduct at least not to his elfling!

 

Legolas could not help but glance over to where Gimli was sitting puffing contentedly on his pipe and when he saw Legolas was watching him he actually winked.

It was not only surprising he amended it was … it was … his eyebrows drew together as he realized what it really was; it was unfair that was what it was!

 

He had been brought to book, quite firmly in fact, when all along his guardian knew that he himself was equally at fault. He was about to speak out when his faulty conscience poked him hard between the shoulder blades and he reluctantly adjusted his thoughts. Very well, not equally at fault, in fact nowhere near to equal Gimli had hardly fought an illegal duel … but still.

A stray thought flittered through his brain, what if he told Aragorn or better yet Mam about Gimli’s involvement it would be amusing to see how Gimli would try and extricate or explain himself to that particular pairing; they would be far less forgiving than he had proved to be. His lips curved up into a smile, at imagining his guardian squirming under the disapproval of Lady Vonild. But then the small part of his mind that did its best in difficult circumstances to keep him from trouble, pointed out that while he might gain some momentary satisfaction, such satisfaction would scarcely make up for the discomfort that would inevitably follow …

He grimaced and reluctantly decided that it would do little for his long term comfort if he tried to implicate Gimli in the ongoing war with Asgaron somehow he would be the one who ended up in trouble because that was just how things worked where he was concerned.

 

He turned as Gimli gave one of his hearty laughs and slapped his thigh at something that Aragorn had said to him, and decided that even if he could get away with dropping Gimli into the mire, he would not do so. The plain fact was that he owed his beloved dwarf so much it would be a poor reward for his honesty if he were to betray his trust just for paltry pay back.

What was more Gimli had only perpetrated one small act of vengeance, well you could hardly call it that, he admitted it was scarcely more than a harmless prank something that could be laughed off or put down to misfortune a phrase which could not be applied to his own actions.

Legolas did not regret the duel, even now. Asgaron had deserved to be shown up as he had been his vitriol over Faramir’s birth had been foul and he had needed to be taught a lesson in manners if nothing else.

What kind of friend would he have been to Faramir had he let such an insult go and while the Lady Eowyn who was normally more than capable of standing up for her husband was incapacitated by her condition? In her current state of health even she had been happy to have a champion to take her part and Legolas was proud to be that champion just as long as it had nothing to do with her cooking of course. Really even his rather shaky culinary skills were superior to what Eowyn produced, it was not so much cooking as murder, not that he would be foolish enough to say that to the White Lady of Rohan especially now.

No rather than distress her he would swallow any number of strange concoctions perhaps he could even persuade Eowyn to try out a few of her recipes on Asgaron and his father or would that be cruelty beyond what was acceptable.

 

No Asgaron had more than earned his punishments, Legolas decided, both the one carried out by Gimli and by himself, and all those other little accidents and mishaps as well and why should he escape Eowyn’s cooking?

Any miscreant should be so punished including those who had not yet been identified as having chosen to give a little payback to the son of the Lord of Lefnui.

Legolas frowned at this jointure wondering  just who else had chosen to repay Asgaron’s spite by playing tricks and pranks because by no means were they all done by him and Gimli had sworn he had only chosen one time to retaliate.

 

There could only be one answer to that, Legolas turned his gaze onto the twins, or maybe he should say only two answers!

But while the Elrondionnath were well versed in playing such pranks, they had not shown themselves to be great supporters of Faramir since Aragorn announced his true parentage. Indeed they had shown themselves to be quite spiteful and Legolas could not understand the reasons for such disapproval. What had happened could scarcely be laid at Faramir’s door or even Estel’s. The perpetrators of the crime were long dead and to persecute the innocent was not something he associated with his cousins.

 

But they were obviously unhappy with Faramir and intent on showing the steward their displeasure, so was it likely that they would be the ones who were toying with Asgaron in such a way? Legolas could not understand the root of the twins newly found antipathy towards Faramir, and what was more he was tired of it. Faramir had so many issues in his life presently what with fools such as Asgaron and his ilk; he did not need his own family taking against him.

Legolas had tried to explain all of this to the Elrondionnath once already he had also asked what had changed for initially they had appeared to approve of Faramir they had been unforthcoming.

 

It was a pity for as the year waned and a new one was about to begin, it was the custom in Gondor that old grievances and enmities were meant to be laid aside each person committed their complaints to parchment then on the night of Mettarë  bonfires were lit and the papers were thrown into the fire. It was symbolic of a desire to start anew. His own folk and those of Imladris had a similar tradition which was honored at the Solstice and Legolas was surprised and saddened that Elladan and Elrohir appeared to have forgotten that fact or were choosing to ignore it because of some private vendetta against Faramir.

Were it not for the distraction of Eowyn’s pregnancy and the problem with Asgaron Legolas felt certain that Gimli, Aragorn, or Arwen would have called the twins on their behavior.

 

He looked at Gimli and Aragorn who were deep in some discussion or other and appeared to be oblivious to what was going on around them there was much gesticulating and snorting as if they were sharing some secret jest or other. Legolas wondered what it could be he was about to go over and join them when a sharp cry from the room above them made everyone turn and look upwards.

 

Aragorn got to his feet but then sat down again and continued his very animated conversation with Gimli. Legolas saw that the twins were now looking towards him then Elladan motioned him to join them, Legolas nodded stood and walked in their direction, they appeared to want to talk with him; well he decided he had something he wanted to say to them as well.

 

“Well little cousin?” Elrohir asked as soon as Legolas got close.

 

“Very thank you!”

 

Legolas ducked the swat at the back of his head and merely grinned when Elladan added.

 

 “Really Legolas you should not have used the tree resin, it was all too obviously one of your Silvan inspired ideas, Gimli was bound to be suspicious, has he made you take the remedy to young Asgaron in the healing halls?”

 

“No, he changed his mind when he heard the full extent of Asgaron’s enmity toward Faramir. Gimli does not take kindly to those who treat another unfairly for no reason other than an accident of birth.” He stared pointedly at the elder son of Elrond.

 

He was rewarded by seeing the faintest of flushes on the faces of the twins, “You do not understand.” Elrohir muttered

 

“I will not if you do not explain, why have you suddenly taken Faramir into dislike? Do not bother to deny it El, it would be obvious to a blind troll, and I am neither blind nor a troll.”

 

“You behave like one occasionally” Elrohir growled then exchanged a look with his brother, who nodded “we like young Faramir well enough, Tithen-las.”

 

“You have a strange way of showing it then.”

 

“But we care for our sister even more.” Elladan continued for his brother. “And her position here has been placed in jeopardy because of the news of Faramir’s connection to Estel. Faramir is now a prince, and heir apparent to the throne of Gondor.”

 

“Only until Estel and Arwen have a son of their own, Faramir would never try to usurp the position of any legitimate children.” Legolas insisted.

 

“He might not but others could act in his name.” The elder twin snapped back, “The people of Minas Tirith may prefer a mortal prince rather than a half-elven one what will happen to our sister or children then?”

 

Legolas stared at the sons of Elrond Eärendilion as if he could not believe what he was hearing. Did they truly believe that Faramir would ever agree to step into his father’s shoes, that anyone could convince him to put himself forward to displace the legitimate heir. It had taken every ounce of Estel’s considerable determination and Arwen’s charm to get the man to even agree to call Estel ‘Ada’.

But the twins had always been very protective of their sister and their baby brother so perhaps they could be forgiven for being suspicious, although they would have done better to have spoken of their concerns to Aragorn rather than take out their frustrations on Faramir that he could not understand and found it hard to forgive.

“You believe Faramir would allow anything to harm either Estel or Arwen are you mad?”

 

“Not mad, Thranduilion, careful, we will not let any harm come to our brother or sister, our father left them in our care and we will not fail him.”

 

Legolas snorted, “And you go about that by trying to intimidate someone who had no more choice in the matter of his birth than I did.”

 

“We are doing nothing of the kind.” Elrohir retorted looking aggrieved.

 

“Yes you are whether you realize it or not though I would like to think that perhaps you did not set out to do so at least not deliberately.”

The twins looked at each other and Legolas was relieved to see that they were looking rather shamefaced and self-conscious as to their conduct so he pushed on. “I do understand your wish to protect Arwen and Estel I love them too. But I swear to you that you have no need to protect them from Faramir and I know of what I speak. Let me reassure you, I was there when Faramir tried so hard to persuade Estel to keep the news of his birth secret. Not from shame but for the very reasons you are stating now he did not want to be a pawn for anyone to try and use against his king. Faramir offered to renounce all claim to either the stewardship or the throne; to retire to Ithilien rather than place Arwen or Estel in such a situation as you fear. They would not hear of it of course. You helped raise Estel; your father took him in, and became the father Aragorn had been so cruelly denied. Do you think given that experience and the love he was proffered as a child he would abandon his recently discovered son even should it place him in an awkward situation and do you doubt that Arwen would have allowed him to do so once she knew the truth no matter how hard Faramir argued his case?”

 

Once again the Elrondionnath exchanged looks, this time they smiled, although their smiles were sheepish in the extreme. “No indeed, if you are right then we have erred grievously.”

 

“Aye that you have, the laddie is speaking the truth and very eloquently as well … ye would do well to listen and learn from him.” A dwarven voice interrupted. “Young Faramir deserves your respect and your protection, especially now.” He added as a cry rent the air from the room above and then another different cry as a new life came into the world and all the earlier conversations were forgotten in the rush for the doorway that would take them indoors.

 


	4. Lady Vonild's pov

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who haven't read our Legendary Friendship series, Lady Vonild is an O/C, Gimli's mother

 

 

**[Start Chapter 4]**

[Lady Vonild’s pov]

 

 

Lady Vonild reached into her sewing basket to pull out a pair of mithril knitting needles, which were last year’s Yule gift from her son.  It was an extravagance, she knew to use such fine material for something so mundane and common as knitting needles, but why should she not use them?  After all, she was a cousin to the King under the mountain, the wife of an honored war hero, and the mother and adopted grandmother of two of the famous nine walkers.  Besides that she was a distinguished lady and respected elder among Durin’s folk and was just about to have a hand in delivering the grandchild of the King of the reunited kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor.  If great warriors could carry axes, swords and knives with beautifully carved hilts and handles, then there was no reason why a great lady should not have beautiful tools of her own trade to work with.  Feeling refined and elegant, she first admired the gleaming needles and then pulled out a skein of yarn to begin working on a very small cap for a very tiny head.

 

Vonild chose to use blue yarn, for Eowyn had expressed her hopes for a son-a common desire for their firstborn, among humans - and blue was the color for boys.  She could always add a pink ribbon to it later if the baby turned out to be a girl instead, she thought to herself.    Settling back in her chair, she relaxed into the rhythm of her knitting, for she knew it would be some time yet before she would leave this room and there was no reason for idleness while she waited.  Vonild always felt more at ease when she was doing something productive with her time, something she almost wished to suggest to the Queen.

 

Not that caring for the mother-to-be wasn’t necessary and helpful, but Eowyn was a long way off from delivery yet and the poor lass already seemed to be tiring of Arwen’s fluttering around her and asking every two minutes how long or how intense her last contraction was, or if she was feeling much pain, or needed to lie down, or wanted a drink of water, or a cool cloth for her head, or a blanket for her shoulders.  But at least Arwen took the hint and kept her worries to herself after Eowyn gave her a sharp look somewhere around the tenth time of asking her how she was faring.

 

 Faramir, being merely a clueless male never did take the hint, evidently, for after a while there was a sharp exchange and then before anyone could stop her, Eowyn had removed her sword from its place on the wall and waved it about menacingly.  Faramir was startled, to say the least, and looked genuinely hurt when his wife threatened to sink the sword through his heart if he wouldn’t stop fussing over her.  Vonild felt quite sorry for the poor worried lad when Arwen led him out, and she tried to offer him a reassuring smile and agreed with the queen’s promise that they would call him back in plenty of  time for the big event.

 

After the door closed behind Faramir, Arwen discreetly placed the sword in the clothes press well beneath a fresh stack of towels and bed linens, while Vonild helped the overwrought Eowyn to lie down for a while.  After a quick examination she gave the girl some tea lightly laced with a mild sedative and then recommended she try to nap for a while.  An hour or two of rest would refresh her and help prepare her for the hard work ahead.  Vonild hoped that in that time some progress would be made without too much suffering on Eowyn’s part.

 

As she brushed the stray hair out of Eowyn’s eyes, she wondered how much different a human birth would be compared to a dwarven birth.  As an elder and a matron, Vonild had a great deal of experience as a midwife, but this was her first time helping to deliver a human child.  She couldn’t help reflecting on and worrying over how slender and fine-boned Eowyn appeared to be in comparison to the strong dwarven females she was more used to.  And yet no one would call this particular human girl a shrinking violet, she who was a shieldmaiden of Rohan, slayer of the witch king and valiant champion of her family and friends.   Vonild chuckled to herself thinking about the latest example of this that had taken place shortly after Faramir had been officially announced as the King’s son and heir. 

 

Of course there were folks who were not pleased at that announcement and some didn’t mind voicing their dismay.  A certain young lord had made the mistake of letting his feelings be known in quite an insulting fashion, to the irritation of those who considered Faramir family, and had paid through the nose for it.  To begin with, the foolish whelp had accepted a challenge to an illegal duel and had been thoroughly humiliated when he had been swiftly and thoroughly beaten by the physically much smaller and more delicate- looking Legolas.  Vonild had done her best at the time, not to show her approval in front of the elfling, for it _had_  been a foolish thing to do and illegal besides, but truth be told she hadn’t been able to help being  quite amused at the boy’s discomfiture.

 

 She had continued to be amused when unfortunate ‘incidents’ kept befalling the pretentious lordling, until the pranks began to get out of hand. Then she feared that her beloved adopted ‘grandson’ was going to end up in more of a scrape than he was prepared for, for like most everyone else, she had assumed that Legolas had been the perpetrator of said ‘misfortunes’.  The lad had insisted he hadn’t been responsible for all of them, and surprisingly Gimli had stood up for him on that account, but Vonild remained unbelieving until several days later.   

 

Eowyn had been fit to be tied when she heard about Lord Lefnui’s pompous son’s words and likely would have challenged him to a duel herself had she not been heavily pregnant and nearly constantly monitored so it was not surprising that she had showered Legolas with culinary gifts and had indulged in some rather unladylike guffawing after the first harmless prank in the public dining hall.  That particular act must have inspired the lass, for a few days later Lady Vonild had followed her into the same dining hall having noticed Eowyn looking especially perturbed and unhappy earlier that day.

 

 Vonild had only wanted to try to persuade the girl to forgo the public dinner that night in favor of a leisurely meal in her quarters where she could relax more easily and rest a bit earlier than usual.  She was going to offer to dine with Eowyn since Faramir’s presence was likely to be required by the King because of some important guests who were to be there.  Eowyn didn’t have a mother of her own to guide her in such things and she took certain suggestions better from the dwarven matron or from the queen than she did from her doting husband.  Vonild was just about to speak up, when she noticed what Eowyn was doing.  Curious, Vonild stepped back into the shadows to watch.

 

Walking straight over to a place setting that was none other than Lord Asgaron’s, Eowyn looked about furtively and then slipped something out of her dress pocket.  She picked up Asgaron’s wine glass, and rubbed something over the rim and then carefully put it back in it’s place before turning to leave, but then startled and gasped at the sound of a someone clearing his throat.

 

“Lady Eowyn!”  Aragorn said, “What are you doing here and what are you using to contaminate Lord Asgaron’s wine glass?”

 

Eowyn’s eyes grew wide and she flushed pink, but she did not attempt to hide her act.  Looking squarely at the king, she opened her hand to show him the fresh cayenne pepper in her palm.

 

“He deserves it!” she defended herself.

 

“Eowyn, dear girl, what are you thinking?” The king tsked, promptly taking the pepper from her

 

 Pulling a small knife from his belt, he made a fresh cut in the vegetable before smearing a generous amount of skin- blistering juice over the rim of the water goblet as well.

 

“The first thing he’ll do is go for the water,” he explained. “We mustn’t make it too easy for him to get relief.”

Eowyn’s expression went from one of embarrassed irritation to one of pure admiration as she laughed together with her surprising co-conspirator.  Neither Aragorn, nor Eowyn had ever known what the dwarven matron had seen, but Vonild forgot all plans of a quiet dinner in with the expectant mother, and all three watched with eager anticipation when wine was served that evening.

 

Yes, Vonild decided, the lassie could hold her own well enough, even in difficult circumstances. She was young and strong and very determined, and that counted for a great deal. She was certain that Eowyn would be just fine. 

 

 

When Eowyn awakened again it was with a moan of distress.  Arwen was immediately at her daughter in law’s side, wiping the girl’s brow with a dampened flannel.  Vonild could see that Eowyn’s discomfort had increased, for the poor lass was covered with a thin sheen of perspiration and a few rogue tears leaked from her tightly closed eyes.  The dwarven midwife quickly and gently examined Eowyn and was quite pleased with the progress her body had made while she slept.  

 

“It won’t be long now, dear,” she encouraged, stroking Eowyn’s sweat slicked hair.  “it is time we should be sending for your man, I’m thinking.  This little one will be here soon  and wanting to see his or her da.”

 

At this Eowyn opened her eyes and looked about confusedly.

 

“Faramir? Wh…where did he go?” she asked as if she hadn’t only a few hours earlier threatened to fell him where he stood. Now panic was evident in her voice.  “He should be here! _I want Faramir!_ ” 

 

“Then you shall have him,” Arwen answered, patting Eowyn’s hand and going toward the door. 

 

“Where is he?”  Eowyn whimpered, her tear filled blue eyes meeting Vonild’s warm dark ones.

 

“He only stepped out for a moment, my dear,” Vonild soothed, “he will be back in plenty of time.  He wouldn’t miss it for the world I am sure.  Ah here he is now.”

 

Vonild stepped back, so that Faramir could take her place at Eowyn’s side.  He was pale and trembling, but Vonild smiled approvingly when he kept his obvious nervousness out of his voice as he whispered soft assurances to his wife. 

 

After that, the labor progressed quickly and before long Faramir and Arwen stood on either side of Eowyn, propping her up and encouraging her to push as Vonild directed.  To the exhausted Eowyn it seemed like hours later, but it was really closer to thirty minutes, when Lady Vonild encouraged her to rest for a moment.

 

“Ye are almost there, lassie.  Just a bit more work and then ye can rest for real.  Now take a deep breath and push.  There’s a good girl. Well done, Eowyn dear.    And once more sweetling!”

 

A mass of dark hair appeared and then a dark red face. And then with one final push and one more anguished cry from Eowyn, the tiny life slipped into Vonild’s large capable hands.  She deftly swiped a finger around the inside of the child’s mouth to clear it and gently flicked the bottoms of the miniature feet, eliciting a soft mewling cry from the tiny creature and changing the dark complexion to a healthy pink.

 

“Congratulations my dears, you have a son!” Vonild announced, laying the squalling babe on his mother’s stomach. 

 

She allowed the new parents to admire their new son as she finished tending to Eowyn, but then she took the baby away, but only long enough to clean him up and dress him warmly.  Faramir seemed loath to leave Eowyn even for a moment, but when Arwen promised to stay with her, he hovered over Vonild as she deftly cared for the child.  Faramir trembled and tears of joy stood in his gray eyes, and he was reaching for his son as soon as Vonild had finished swaddling the infant in a soft flannel blanket. 

 

“May I?” he asked, and Vonild smiled at his obvious excitement and awe.

 

“Of course ye may hold him, Faramir.  He is your son after all,” Vonild said.  “But I’d  rather ye’d sit down first.  There’s a good lad.”

 

Next the queen helped Eowyn to bathe and change into a fresh nightgown while Vonild changed the bedding and made a warm compress out of fresh comfrey to press against Eowyn’s torn flesh in order to aid the healing process, and then it was time to attempt to let the baby nurse.  Faramir handed the child to Eowyn and sat back to watch in fascination.  Arwen busied herself with tidying the room in order not to intrude on the little family and Vonild decided now was the time to see to the anxious group who could now be heard just outside the door. 

 

“Wouldn’t ye like to tell them your news?”  Vonild asked Faramir, but he only shook his head, his eyes never leaving his son.  Vonild smiled and nodded, but as she started to leave Faramir stopped her.

 

“Lady Vonild?  Could you send in my…that is…perhaps Aragorn should be here.”

 

“Of course, laddie.  I shall tell him you wish him to be here, though I am certain it would be difficult to hold him back.”

 

Faramir offered her a small smile in thanks and then she stepped out of the bedchamber where seven pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly. 

 

“It’s a fine healthy boy!” Vonild announced, and then laughed as cheer went up from the all male crowd.   Faramir’s Uncle Imrahil, squeezed his own son’s arm, and Erchirion smiled back at his father, while Gimli stepped forward to thump Aragorn heartily on the back.

 

“Congratulations, laddie,” the dwarf said. “How does it feel to be a grandfather?”

 

The king smiled good-naturedly, but Vonild thought he seemed to pale a bit.  His foster brothers were quick to pounce on the idea though.

 

“Ah that’s so, Estel.  You are a daeradar now!”

 

“Our little brother is an old man!”

 

“Likely he’ll be needing a walking stick soon.”

 

Both peredhil delighted in mocking the king, but Vonild detected no venom in their teasing as had been present earlier in their unfair treatment of Faramir. Evidently they had finally come to their senses on the topic for whatever reason, and Vonild was thankful for that.  Still she decided to step in to save the poor man from his tormentors. 

 

“Enough of that,” she said firmly and then turned to the king, “Faramir has asked for ye, lad.  Are ye ready to see your grandson?”

 

The king shook himself and rose a little shakily.

 

 “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he whispered under his breath, before squaring his shoulders and entering the bedchamber. But Vonild heard him gasp in delight and saw him kiss Faramir on the cheek before she closed the door on the homey scene and gave the new family their privacy. 

 

Suddenly Vonild was bone tired, now that the excitement was over and her work was done.  Gimli seemed to notice this.

 

“Come, Mam. Let us go out to the garden and have a smoke,” he stepped forward and took her arm. “ I’ve brought your pipe along.”

 

“Yes, let’s,” Legolas agreed, quickly turning to leave the room.  Vonild laughed out loud at that. No doubt the elfling was relieved at the chance to get away from the birthing chamber without actually having to see any evidence of a birth having taken place.  Valar forbid that he might catch a glimpse of Eowyn in her nightgown, or worse yet see her suckling the infant. 

 

Gimli laughed too and teased Legolas about having forgotten to bring _his_ pipe, but Vonild noticed that her son didn’t waste any time in heading for the garden either.  If she lived for another thousand years she’d never understand how a pair of battle-seasoned warriors could be so squeamish about something as natural and beautiful as a new life entering the world.  Males! 

 

Still she took pleasure in their company in the Queen’s garden as she took the time to enjoy a well-earned rest.   It was a relief to know that the birth had come to pass without incident and both mother and baby were safe and well, so it was with a light heart that she lit her pipe and enjoyed the spicy aroma of the pipe weed before inhaling deeply and then releasing the fragrant smoke as she stood looking down at the White City.  The sounds of Mettarë revelers reached her ears, making her wonder how folks at home were faring with the Midwinter preparations without her.  It felt odd to be away from home at such a time.  She felt a sudden homesickness for her husband, her daughter and her little grandson, but she quickly shook it off.  She had come for an important reason, and it wasn’t as if she were alone. 

 

Vonild turned to the mismatched pair sitting behind her on the bench and noticed that both were also looking out over the city and she realized that perhaps she was not the only one thinking of home.  She sighed at the sight and realized it was up to her to lighten the mood.  It would not do to have everyone feeling melancholy and homesick on such a happy occasion.  This was the time of year to count blessings and look forward to the future with joy. 

 

“It has been a large, fine day this day,” she cheerfully began, “and this is a lovely night to spend together with family.”

 

Gimli shook himself and quickly agreed.

 

“Indeed it is, Mam,” he rose to stand next to her and kiss her on the cheek.  “I am pleased you are here to share the holiday with us, even though I’m sure ye’ll be missed at home.”

 

 

Vonild pulled her son into a tight embrace, before looping her arm through his and squeezing it companionably.  Legolas smiled at them but his eyes betrayed his thoughts and Vonild could see that he felt separated from them and a little bereft from this display of affection.  To Gimli’s credit it only took a nudge in the ribs and a pointed look from his mother for him to notice this as well. 

 

Gimli hurried to sit back down beside his charge and patted him on the knee.

 

“Of course, it is never easy to be away from loved ones at a time like this,” he observed.  “Are ye missing home a bit lamb?”

 

Legolas only shrugged one shoulder, but then softly admitted, “Maybe a little.”

 

“Ah well, that’s only natural, laddie,” Gimli assured him, “but ye needn’t be at home to be with family ye know.  I may be a poor substitute for your Ada, but I miss ye as much as he does when we’re apart.”

“Really, Elvellon?” the elf ask shyly.

 

“Aye, lamb, of course!”  he  placed a muscular arm around Legolas slim shoulders and pulled him close.  “Perhaps I haven’t said so before, but ye are as dear as a son to me, child, even if there is no blood between us. Ye’re a good lad with a kind  heart and I am proud of ye, just as I know your real father is.”

 

“Thank you Gimli,” Legolas said, flushing with pleasure at the unexpected praise.  ‘But I wouldn’t say Adar is my only real father.  You have been just as ‘real’ in your care of me in the last couple of years, though I don’t suppose we look quite as much alike.”

 

“Well your beard _is_ a little thin,” Gimli chuckled, but then glanced at his mother and winked. “Though some say we are a bit alike in other ways.”

 

“Oh yes, shockingly so,” Legolas readily agreed, giving his guardian a knowing look. “More so than anyone would imagine I think.”

 

Gimli laughed, but raised a warning eyebrow at this comment for some reason that Vonild did not understand.  Legolas ended any attempt to continue that particular topic of conversation, though Vonild noticed that the elfling looked rather more amused than contrite.  She wasn’t sure exactly what had passed between her son and his elfling but she decided it was better not to ask.  Instead she stepped forward and grasped her honorary grandson by the chin with one large hand and kissed him firmly on both cheeks. 

 

“Listen to my son, Lambkin.  It is love shared rather than blood shared that makes a family and you a full fledged member of ours.”

 

Vonild wedged her way in between her two companions and all three sat contentedly on the stone bench, this time feeling happy to be together and sharing the holiday and the evening rather than sadly reflecting on what might be happening somewhere else where they couldn’t be. 

 

 

The peaceful moment was interrupted when the sounds of someone swearing and spitting like an angry cat came up from the street below them.  Vonild frowned and hurried to see who was making such an inappropriate display and was shocked by what she saw.  The very unfortunate young Lord Asgaron and his father, Lord Lefnui were walking hurriedly home, both looking decidedly disgruntled.  That in itself wasn’t what shocked the lady, for she had hardly seen either of the two lords when they _hadn’t_ looked offended. It was a permanent expression they both wore as far as she could tell. What stunned her was that Lord Asgaron’s formerly luxurious shoulder-length golden curls were gone and were now replaced by closely cropped pale fuzz.  Some places were so thin that the white skin of his scalp could be seen shining in the moonlight.  She did not know how such a thing had happened, but she did have a good idea who was behind it. 

 

She turned a frown on the elfling next to her, who suddenly wore a very wide-eyed and innocent expression. 

“Do not you give me that look, youngling, for it doesn’t fool me in the least!  What have you done to that  poor wretch this time?” she demanded.  But before Legolas could stammer out an answer, Gimli stepped in to help.

 

“Now Mam,” he reasoned, “it is hardly fair to blame Legolas for this when ye don’t know all the facts.”

 

This time she rounded on Gimli. 

 

“Are you telling me, you believe this elfling had nothing to do with this? Is that what ye are trying to say?” she asked disbelievingly.

 

“Well not exactly…”

 

“Well then what _are_ ye trying to say, exactly?” Vonild growled. “Who do you think is responsible for this?”

 

“Let’s just say ye could call it a team effort,”  Gimli explained, winking at his elf.

 

“A team effort?  What do ye mean… ah never mind.  It has been a long tiring day and I’d rather not know.”  Vonild sighed in resignation and then reached down to open her sewing basket, pulled out her knitting needles and began to knit furiously.

 

Both Legolas and Gimli looked puzzled as they silently watched her for a while until finally Legolas asked what they both wanted to know.

 

“What are you making, Mam?”

 

“It is midwinter,”  Vonild snapped as if this should explain everything.

 

“And?”  Gimli prompted.

 

“AND it is cold outside!   And thanks to someone around here there are folks about without any hair to keep them warm this time of year.” In spite of her best endeavor, Vonild’s lip twitched in an effort not to smile.  “ I’m knitting the poor fool a hat!”

 

 

XXXXX

 


	5. Aragorn's point of view

 

**[Start Chapter 5]**

 

[Aragorn POV, Long Gallery in the King's House in the Citadel of Minas Tirith] 

 

Although most of the crowds who had thronged into the Great Hall for the naming of the King's grandson and the Heir to the Prince of Ithilien had thankfully departed,  an intimate family party continued in the long gallery of the King's House far into the evening. Cheerful voices rang off the rafters of the long, wooden room, decorated with branches of fragrant pine and bright holly.   

 

"Would you like to hold your grandson again, Adar?" Faramir asked, baby Prince Elboron cradled in his arms. 

 

"Surely I would, ion-nin." Aragorn answered, thinking that he would never tire of hearing the question, nor of holding his small grandson. Nor, for that matter, would he ever tire of hearing Faramir call him "father," instead of "Elessar" or "Aragorn" or "My King." 

 

Faramir carefully settled his precious baby son into his father's arms. The small, serious face stared evenly back at Aragorn's own. The King reflected that Elboron had Faramir's gray eyes, his own eyes. How glad Aragorn was to be able to acknowledge the child!  

 

Faramir looked exhausted. 

 

"Sit down, ion-nin." Aragorn commanded. The ceremony earlier that day had been draining for all of them, even with Arwen having minimized the time that little Elboron would be exposed to the crowds and the air of the drafty great hall. 

 

"You have infants sitting in state for twelve hours, and yet you wonder why baby humans have a higher mortality rate than elflings!" The Queen had fumed. Lady Vonild had agreed, and Faramir and Eowyn had then insisted on cutting the full-day pageantry into a relatively short ceremony in the mid-afternoon. Their family, official and unofficial, had all been present, as had the Lords of Gondor , as well as a delegation from Eowyn's native Rohan. The largest number of guests had been citizens of the city, chosen by lottery from each level of the city to attend the Naming Ceremony. 

 

Elboron seemed the least tired of any of them by the day's events, perhaps because he had wisely slept through most of them. Now he was entranced by the silver embroidery on Aragorn's tunic, reaching out for it with chubby little hands. Arwen smiled and handed him a rattle covered in dark blue velvet, which Elboron seemed to accept as a reasonable alternative to his grandfather's tunic. 

 

Holding the babe, Aragorn reflected on the events of earlier that day. Despite the floor being heated by underground pipes bringing hot water from the springs under Minas Tirith, and numerous decorative hangings, the Hall of Kings was still rather drafty at this time of year. Despite the chill, the tapestries and paintings showing the Numenoreans and elves celebrating Mettare in Beleriand, Numenor, and the exile Kingdoms of Gondor and Arnor had lent color and pageantry to the occasion, as did the banners celebrating the heritage of the babe to be named. White stars on midnight blue for the King and Queen, forest green and sea blue for Ithilien, the white horse on dark green for Rohan, and the white swan ship of Dol Amroth on light blue. 

 

Aragorn and Arwen sat upon the thrones which had for so long been empty, Aragorn wearing the winged mithril crown of the Kings of Gondor. The Steward's chair was notably vacant, since Faramir and Eowyn were both to present the child. They made a handsome picture, the Steward's red-gold hair and Eowyn's palest gold, with the dark haired baby in her arms. It seemed that the child had inherited Aragorn's dark tresses, or perhaps Eomer's brown-gold, it was still too early to tell. 

 

As they reached the dais upon which sat the thrones, Eowyn handed her husband the dark-haired, grey-eyed child. 

 

Faramir knelt, the baby cradled safely in his arms, as Aragorn rose to his feet. 

 

"Adar," Faramir began, his eyes tender as his gaze moved between father and son, "Be known to your grandson, whom we have named Elboron." Elboron, meaning faithful star. 

 

For a moment, Aragorn's throat seized with joy and he could not speak. From the first rank of friends and family, he saw Legolas give him and Faramir a proud smile, and then cheekily mouth the words, 'Sounds like?'  

 

It wouldn't have meant anything to anyone but Aragorn, who had once shared lessons with the elven Prince. But to the King, it gave him the needed push to accept little Elboron from Faramir, to hold him and say the ceremonial words welcoming this baby born at the end of this, the first full year free of the Enemy's threat. 

 

And to add, "He pleases me greatly, ion-nin." Aragorn's eyes caught Faramir's, and he added silently, 'As do you.'  

 

"The name is well-chosen." The King continued aloud, "And does honor to the elves who fostered me and fought beside us, and to your brother who fell defending the Ringbearer's companions." As Boromir had done, in the end, and the rest of the story wasn't really worth going into. 

 

The moments of high emotion passed in a fleeting blink of the eye, and then Aragorn found himself and Arwen in a smaller, warmer antechamber. For several hours, they stood beside Faramir and Eowyn, accepting well-wishes and gifts in the name of baby Elboron. The guest of honor spent that time sleeping in a snug cradle under a cloth of state. There had only been a few awkward moments throughout that time. Even young Lord Asgaron was on his best behavior, on the arm of his sister, the war widow of a knight from Lamedon. 

 

 Thinking of Asgaron caused the King's eyes to flicker with amused fondness to his oldest friend, the Prince of the Greenwood.  Legolas stood beside Gimli. The dwarf said something which caused Legolas to smile with shy pleasure. Aragorn complimented himself that bringing the two of them together had really been one of his better ideas, even driven by necessity as it had been. He resolved to spend more time with the both of them. They had endured many hardships together, and he still found much joy in their company. He owed them many debts, one of which being that Aragorn might not even know that Faramir was his son if not for Legolas and Gimli.  They had become Faramir's friends as well as Aragorn's, and both had needed the support of that friendship. It had been Legolas, Aragorn knew, who had encouraged Faramir to accept his father into his life, and Legolas who had encouraged - and at times even badgered - Faramir to call Aragorn by the term "father."  And Aragorn knew that Legolas was proud of Faramir, for finally doing so.  

 

Aragorn was proud, too. It had been a brave thing to do, particularly in front of such a crowd. It was the normal term of address for a son to a father upon the birth of a new babe in the family, but Aragorn had expected Faramir to choose the path of formality. Nor would it have been improper for Faramir to have done so, Steward as he was and King as Aragorn was. Even as clever a politician and skilled a diplomat as his son was, Aragorn did think that Faramir had taken the politics of the matter into account whatsoever.  If the King had to guess, it had been a last minute decision on Faramir's part, to address him as "my father" rather than "my King." 

 

But despite not having been a planned political gambit, that one word difference had made the naming ceremony and Faramir's acknowledgement seem more a private family matter, a matter of the heart, than a political power play. It seemed to have assuaged the concerns of those who feared that the Prince of Ithilien having an heir meant he was trying to establish his own dynasty in place of the King's. Aragorn himself had no such concerns, and in fact pitied anyone who might approach Faramir with such an offer. It would be impossible to convince Faramir to do something which he thought was wrong. Aragorn had found more than enough trouble getting his son to do something which Faramir merely did not want to do. he conflict over whether or not the young man would be accompanied by the King's guards, for instance, which might still be ongoing if it were not for Prince Imrahil.  

 

Keeping that in mind, Aragorn handed baby Elboron into the waiting arms of his great-uncle the Prince of Dol Amroth, even though he was reluctant to surrender the now-slumbering princeling. Imrahil grinned at him, making Aragorn remember his young second officer in the battle against the corsairs, the year before Faramir's birth. 

 

With Imrahil in Minas Tirith, willing and able to assume some of the duties of the Steward, it meant that Faramir could spend time with his wife and new son while Aragorn did likewise, and maybe spent some time hunting with Legolas. The cold did not bother elf nor King, and Imrahil was much less likely than Faramir to insist that the King do some of his own paperwork. Although even Faramir would almost certainly have let Aragorn off the hook if the reason was to go and spend time with their friend of the Greenwood, or Gimli, or any of the other members of the fellowship, for that matter. Legolas and Gimli could be Aragorn's excuse for any number of hours spent away from his Kingly duties. Aragorn regarded them and smiled. 

 

Legolas smiled back at him, game but uncertain. Gimli gave them both a curious look. 

 

His friend had found the whole occasion more trying than Elboron. With so many watching him Legolas had been on his best behavior and had upheld the dignity of Eryn Lasgalen as only a son Thranduil could, but he knew that the formalities and ‘stuffiness’ of the customs here in Gondor irritated the elven prince. Still it had been amusing to watch Legolas attempting to avoid the attentions of the matrons and maidens of court and to watch his expression as various gifts were proffered to Faramir and Eowyn for their son.

Some of the gifts were Aragorn acknowledged quite ridiculous, what any infant might want with a cut glass candelabra that was so heavy it took three servitors to carry it in he had no idea, Legolas’ opinion was clear to see from his disgusted expression and Aragorn had feared the elf might have commented but a sharp elbow in the ribs from Lady Vonild had stilled his tongue at least until the unfortunate merchant who had presented the gift was beyond earshot.

 

 Fortunately other gifts had met with his approval, the beautiful miniature swan ship from Dol Amroth had fascinated Legolas and Aragorn had felt a momentary frisson of disquiet as the elf peered at it, he knew Legolas had heard the call of the sea but had fought against it and he hoped he would long continue to do so.

But then Legolas’ attention was caught by two beautiful saddles sent by Eomer King, and Aragorn had heard Eowyn explain they were specially designed so that she and Faramir could carry Elboron safely when they rode out in Ithilien and on looking more closely Aragorn had seen the clever straps and panniers that had been added. He made a mental note to himself to ask Eomer for similar saddles for himself and Arwen for when they had their first child.

Legolas had presented his own gifts of course, just as the others had done, and his had been peculiarly elven in choice, three beech saplings from Eryn Lasgalen which the prince had explained was the traditional way the elves of Thranduil’s realm marked marriage and child birth by planting the trees together so that they grew and thrived as one.

He had surprised Aragorn however by giving a second gift; one which Aragorn was quite sure had not been made by the elves but by the skilled hands of Gimli Gloinson for Gimli was a craftsman of no little talent and had already presented Elboron with a mithril rattle, the handle of which was in the shape of a horse’s head, while the rattle itself was etched with horses, ships and the white tree the beauty and artistry had taken everyone’s breath away and Gimli had turned quite red at the reaction to what he had called a simple gift.

Legolas’ second gift was also crafted from mithril and from gold, and was a tiny linked bracelet, made up of ivy leaves, and the prince had shyly explained that it could be added to each year so that the bracelet would grow with Elboron, it is something from the elves of Ithilien’ he had added ‘in honor of our place in your fiefdom which we hope will be a long and happy one.’

 

Aragorn hoped that would be the case too, for now he watched as Legolas accompanied by his dwarven guardian avoided being caught by one of the more determined ladies in waiting and slipped through into a quiet corner where Vonild was sitting. How fortunate it had been that Vonild had been prepared to remain in the White City until the birth, her skill and calm assurance had worked wonderfully on Eowyn and on his son. He must make sure he thanked her properly, aye and see to it that she now enjoyed the season of Mettarë here in Gondor just as he must see to the needs of all his guests …

 

The soft conversation between Imrahil and Faramir reclaimed the King's attention, just in time for Elboron to wake with a start. Instead of crying, as would be common to many a baby so young, he solemnly regarded his father's only uncle. There was, Aragorn just had time to note,  something of Imrahil's peacefulness about the babe Elboron.  Then, the baby was spirited off by Elladan and Elrohir. 

 

Having been inspired to overcome their distrust of Faramir by Legolas' lecture, Aragorn's elder twin foster brothers were now now proclaiming themselves great-uncles to little Elboron. Faramir seemed bemused but gratified, willing to take their about-face in good part, and eager to resume the friendship which they had begun just after the war, before anyone knew the truth of Faramir's parentage. No doubt that Faramir intellectually understood that if the twins were great-uncles to Faramir's son, that made them in their own eyes just as much Faramir's own uncles as was Imrahil of Dol Amroth.  

 

Faramir  did not, Aragorn thought, yet have any idea what that might mean. As Elladan lectured Faramir over taking care of himself in addition to little Elboron, Aragorn met Legolas' eyes again. Legolas DID know what the twins' new interest in Faramir might mean for the young Steward, and the elven prince shook his head in rueful sympathy. The twins were far more likely than Aragorn to feel that a loved one's behavior merited correction, and they were not shy with a few firm swats to explain their point of view. Or more than a few, if they felt it needful. 

 

Perhaps, the King thought to himself, it might be a good idea to suggest to Elladan and Elrohir that they join Faramir's patrols of Ithilien, come the spring. That would give the twins a chance to get to know him better, give Faramir two guards whom Aragorn trusted, and also make it possible for the twins as well as Faramir to be frequent visitors to Ithilien-en-Edhil, in case Legolas needed them. Provided, of course, that the twins continued to be kind to his son. 

 

"I think you're overwhelming my baby." Eowyn told Elladan and Elrohir levelly, apparently not yet having forgiven them for their earlier treatment of her husband.  Eowyn collected Elboron, and retreated with him to the other side of the room.  Faramir, still beside his father, watched his wife and son with shining eyes. 

 

"Perhaps I should..." Faramir began, moving to join them. 

 

Aragorn chuckled, and threw an arm around his son's shoulders. "Stay with me. Eowyn has this under control. Conserve your strength, You may need it later, if she loses her temper entirely." 

 

Faramir sighed and leaned back against his father with a nod. Eowyn's moods were still uncertain, but that was common for new mothers from what Aragorn understood. 

 

Eowyn seemed to have regained her equilibrium, and was now coaxing a reluctant Legolas to hold baby Elboron. The graceful Prince of the Greenwood appeared almost awkward for a moment, although Aragorn did not fear he'd drop the baby. After a few moments, Legolas' nervous unease melted into a hesitant smile. Aragorn should have known that his oldest friend could never resist a baby animal of any species. No surprise that it should be the same for a baby human. Then Elboron's little hand reached out to grasp a bright jeweled bead on Legolas' braids. For half a moment, Aragorn hoped that the unusually calm babe might have just wanted to hold it, but then he tugged. 

 

"Ouch!"  

 

Aragorn stifled a chuckle. It would not do to laugh at Legolas, who was after all suffering pain at his grandson's little hands. Or hand, rather. 

 

Gimli didn't bother to stifle his mirth. Aragorn saw Legolas narrow his eyes at the dwarf, before settling Elboron in Gimli's arms. "See?" Legolas said, twitching the end of part of Gimli's braided beard for the young babe, while Gimli tried to make him stop that behavior  without dropping Elboron, or making the babe feel insecure. "You see, Elboron?" Legolas continued in an innocent tone of voice, "Gimli's braids are entirely more distinguished, and much more worthy of your attention." 

 

Eowyn dimpled unhelpfully beside them, as her son decided that Legolas must be right. Elboron reached out with both small hands to pull on Gimli's braided beard firmly. 

 

"Ach, stop that, wee laddie!" Gimli protested. Elboron evidently had no interest in letting go of such a fascinating new toy. 

 

"Males!" Lady Vonild exclaimed in exasperation, reaching out to offer the baby a brightly colored cloth [ball] in exchange for her son's fine red beard. 

 

Aragorn couldn't help but grin, glad to have his old family and his new family together, as the old year ended and the new year began. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this story and would like to read more like it check us out at  
> http://groups.yahoo.com/group/TheLeaflingChronicles/
> 
> New members are always welcome!


End file.
